


This One Time at Band Camp (I Finally Got the Guy)

by woozdum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, i put my fave ggs in bc, kinda idk, no mention of chan, rip george michael, slight crack, soonyoung pines a lot, sry, this is 12k of me projecting, this is all v self gratuitous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 12:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9182734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woozdum/pseuds/woozdum
Summary: Soonyoung is too emotionally constipated to be dealing with so many feelings at fucking band camp.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW AMERICAN PIE IS NOT AN ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF MARCHING BAND IM SRY THE ONLY OTHER TITLE OPTION WAS "WOES OF SAXUAL ATTRACTION" OFEIAWJPRAOIJAWOIJAOP
> 
> anyway, dani is the light of my life pls check out her art she's the absolute best most wonderful ever  
> (http://wonchanx.tumblr.com/post/155351532297/moodboard-for-this-one-time-at-band-camp-i)

Soonyoung squints from the glare of the sun as he watches the marchers next to him attempt to stay in line with the girl at the end. It’s the Monday of the last week of summer before school starts. 9:22 AM if he’s reading the clock on his wrist correctly. (It’s analog so he’s not entirely sure.)

 

Why is he doing this again? Wasn’t two years of this torture enough? Apparently not. He hears a huff from his left, but he dares not to move as Jisoo runs through the block, fussing over the little freshmen who had yet to fully grasp the mechanics of using one’s peripheral vision. Though, to be fair, it has only been a few hours since they reached camp and started rehearsal, so it is understandable why they’re not the best (they suck).

 

He bends his arm a little to ease the discomfort, but he can feel sweat dripping from his forehead down to his tear ducts, and the sting in his eyes reminds him of how much he hates this. Blinking  rapidly, his section waits for the techs to finish nitpicking everyone’s form.

 

“Ready, front!”

 

He waits patiently, knowing that the end of ~~hell~~ basics block is rapidly approaching. The brass tech is chastising a returning sophomore for not covering down the line and _for the love of- Seokmin! It’s a left foot step off. Left, Seokmin. Left!_

The band is currently split on the field. Well, the raggedy old field with faux yard line markers and (100% probably) spit. Soonyoung might have lost a reed somewhere by the right 40 his freshman year. The brass is stuck in the backfield, at the complete mercy of the staff while the color guard are practicing spins and catches and poses not three yards from where the woodwind block ends. The pit are still warming up inside the auxiliary hall, blessed with both air conditioning and a water fountain. The drumline-

Soonyoung doesn’t need to think about the drumline. What with their beautiful thighs and shirtless bodies and round glasses that just barely fall down their nose but still need to be pushed up between reps and their deep, husky voices yelling to “move with a porpoise” and cute little nose scrunches and-

Soonyoung _really_ doesn’t need to think about the drumline.

“Standby.”

“Relax.” Soonyoung groans in relief, stretching as he waits for the two magic words. “Water break!”

 

He breaks off into a sprint towards his water jug, a dirty blue one that has _HOSH_ (an outdated nickname from middle school) stylized on it in now fading sharpie. Holding it to his mouth, he chugs, knowing full well that he won’t get a bathroom break until lunch in 3 hours. But seeing as he’s just spent an hour in the summer sun, conditioning (suffering), it’s a price he’s willing to pay. He notes that both the guard and the brass sections have also congregated at the side where everyone’s everything (water, instruments, drill, backpacks, food and, in Jeonghan’s case, a pack of condoms and some lube “just in case”) is located.

 

He takes another chug of the ice cold water when a voice calls out, “Soonyoung! Share with me, I can’t find mine.”

 

Soonyoung doesn’t need to turn around to identify that voice. But he does anyway, only to find ~~the love of his life~~ one very shirtless Wonwoo sheepishly rubbing the back of his head before motioning for the water jug. His eyes flicker from the lean bod to the toned arms to the captivating eyes before settling on taking one last sip, shoving the jug into Wonwoo’s hands, and hastily runs onto the field. He smirks a little when the latter winces.

 

It’s a poorly kept secret that Soonyoung has the biggest crush on Wonwoo.

 

(Which basically means it isn’t a secret to anyone other than Wonwoo himself. Which is incredibly frustrating for anyone who has a massive crush on their friend and wants to romantically worship their dick.)

 

Soonyoung casually glances back as Wonwoo takes a sip, back muscles flexing, and suddenly his mouth is very dry. (He can’t believe he and Wonwoo just had another indirect kiss. This makes twelve since June.) He lets out a pitiful whine when a few droplets of water (or maybe it’s sweat, he couldn’t be bothered to care) trail down Wonwoo’s body.

 

Soonyoung is too emotionally constipated to be dealing with so many feelings at fucking band camp.

 

Jisoo pats him on the head twice, before calling everyone back to the field.

 

Wonwoo tugs on his hair and sticks his tongue out, baiting Soonyoung, before jogging back to the drumline before he can retaliate.

 

Oh, the things he’d do to that tongue.

 

Fuck.

* * *

Drill is arguably Soonyoung’s favorite part about practice. Sure, he hates the smell of the pinnies and the fact that on the field he is no longer _Soonyoung, could you teach this freshman how to mark time_ but, instead, _#74, that’s not your dot_ (even though it clearly says so in the drill book). Nevertheless, there’s something exciting about learning new drill, no matter how annoying it is to run and rerun it again and again and again. He likes getting to meet and talk to people outside of the alto section (not that he doesn’t love them, but they have a lot of inexperienced players that give the section a bad reputation). Drill also means plenty of rest while the staff critiques various sections on the field.

 

Currently, the sousaphones are learning how to backslide again (Jeonghan looks like he wants to run himself over while the visual director has them reset the form yet again. Soonyoung doesn’t envy them one bit.) He’s in between Jiyeon and Myungho, two veteran mellophone players and indisputably the two cutest members in the band. Jisoo once told him that it’s easy to gain the former’s kindness but difficult to earn her respect, yet the now sophomore quickly achieved that within his first couple weeks with the band. The three of them remain in standby, amused by the scene, though they (wisely) keep their mouths shut as Jeonghan mutters something about incompetence none too quietly.

 

“Standby.”

 

The band swiftly transforms from relaxed and sloppy to poised, professional, and prepared. Soonyoung loves this. Loves to perform in something bigger than himself. Loves that practice yields perfection, that every mistake will be caught, that the music and the marching work in tandem and neither is more important than the other.

  
He holds his drill book in his right hand, the left covering the back of his right palm as the director calls out to march to the next drill page in the book. He quickly glances at his highlighted spot. Two steps up, three steps to the right of the 50, 12 counts to get there. It’s a fairly small distance, a simple front slide to his spot. He’ll be between trumpets 31 and 32.

 

“Set.”

 

He front slides cleanly, breaking off from the mellos to join the trumpets on the right side of the field. He can see his section leader, Sojung, fixing her line, though the new kids rarely pay her any mind. It aggravates the upperclassmen to no end how _the younger generations don’t understand the concept of seniority. I didn’t bust my ass for two years to be disrespected like this, damn it._ Junhui had exclaimed that on the busride over, before flopping onto the seat and whining about injustice while Nayoung patted his head sympathetically. Seeing Sojung now, though, he empathizes more than ever. Luckily (or unluckily all things considered), he’s next to Seokmin and another trumpet player, Yuna. While neither of them were the best marchers, both notorious for mixing up their lefts and rights, they make up for it by being amazing, indispensable trumpet players (again, Jisoo’s words, not his).

 

“Hyung,” Seokmin loudly whispers, mouth strategically covered by his drill book, but Soonyoung can see the impish grin from the corner of his eye, “check your next drill set.”

 

What the hell? Soonyoung flips to set 33 and looks for his highlighted dot. He still doesn’t get why Seokmin is excited about-

 

Oh.

 

It’s next to the snares. Specifically, it’s next to Snare 2. More specifically, it’s next to Jeon Wonwoo. Even more specifically, it’s next to a shirtless, sweaty, sin in shorts, fucking beautiful Jeon Wonwoo.

 

Fuck.

 

Soonyoung glares with contempt at the woman calling out directions at the top of the bleachers, which comes out as more of a squint against the sunlight. It would have been more effective with sunglasses on, sure, but he refuses to get another horrendous glasses tan. Seokmin snickers when he huffs petulantly.

 

Yuna spares him a glance out of pity before snapping her head back to attention, “It’s ok, Soonyoung-oppa. If he gets super distracting, just imagine him in a tutu or something.”

 

“No way, don’t give him ideas! Hyung is super kinky, he’d probably love that.”

 

He sighs. This is why he hates trumpet players.

 

There is a call for attention as they move onto the next set. Soonyoung back slides to two off the 40. Just two steps from him, Wonwoo stands feet planted, straddling the 45 yard line (Soonyoung wonders what Wonwoo would look like straddling him.) On his right, he barely notices Seungcheol fumbling with his drill, trying to get one of the new freshmen bass drummers to the correct spot without moving noticeably.

 

He would have helped, if he only trusted that the words out of his mouth wouldn’t be “Hey Wonwoo! You have great legs. They’d look greater if I was between them though. Preferably on my knees. Also, have you ever considered tutus?” However, he’s granted reprieve when Jisoo runs over, looking at his official drum major drill book, and moves the line as he sees fit. He grabs Seungcheol by the shoulders and shuffles him barely a step over to his right, and if Soonyoung didn’t know Jisoo like the back of his hand, he wouldn’t have caught the light blush grazing the tips of his ear.

 

“They’re cute, right?” Wonwoo grins, muttering into his ear. When did he get so close? How did he get so close?

 

Soonyoung looks at him quickly before nodding just enough and whispering back, “Adorable. Why won’t they just d-” He makes the mistake of trying to get a good look at Wonwoo. Suddenly, all he sees is ruffled hair peeking out of a turned-backwards cap, broad shoulders and a defined chest, emphasized by an ugly harness.

 

He hears the command for attention, but somehow, he misses the step off seeing as he can’t seem to pull his gaze from Wonwoo, though he’s sure he is undetected by all...

 

“Kwon Soonyoung. I understand that the men on the drumline are very handsome but please do not waste our time ogling them.”

 

But one.

 

He hears snickering and sees Jisoo suppressing a smile with the back of his hand, while Seungcheol looks at him amusedly. He glances back to see Wonwoo’s nose doing that scrunchy thing it does when he finds something incredibly funny. And judging by Seokmin’s obnoxious guffaws, it seems like everyone else thinks so as well.

 

In the next drill set, Soonyoung finally meshes past the percussion to form a new alto/trumpet box centered around the 35 yard line. He tries to sneak another peak at the drumline and gets startled when Seokmin hums the intro to Careless Whisper loud enough for the section to hear.

 

Fuck this. He deserves better.

* * *

It’s dinner time when Jeonghan sidles up next to Soonyoung, a shiteating grin on his face, eyes twinkling mischievously. Soonyoung knows that look. He’s been known to dish out that look himself from time to time, and he knows it never ends well for the recipient.

 

“So...Wonwoo, huh.” He mentions flippantly, reaching over to grab the ketchup from the center of the table.

 

Soonyoung groans, letting his head thump against the wooden table, drawing the attention of both Jihoon and Junhui who were playing rock paper scissors for the last chocolate chip cookie that really should have been given as dessert.

 

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” he mutters pitifully, cheeks blazing in memory of this afternoon’s accounts.

 

Soonyoung first met Wonwoo when he transferred from his private school to public high school, with absolutely no familiarity, no friends, and possibly the worst possible haircut in human history. Wonwoo had sat next to him during first period, offering a “Hey, I’m Wonwoo. If you’d like, you can come have lunch with me and a couple friends” and a lopsided smile that had Soonyoung’s twelve year old heart swooping. And maybe it’s the endearing way Wonwoo’s pubescent voice had cracked at the end of his offer or how he fidgeted a bit with his uniform while waiting for Soonyoung to answer, but Soonyoung was hooked. This was six years ago. Yet, Soonyoung still feels butterflies when Wonwoo smiles at him (or anywhere around him, it’s all relative). To be really honest, he’s surprised more people didn’t pick up on this sooner.

 

Seokmin grins cheekily through a mouthful of rice, “I can tell you everything, hyung.” He leans in conspiratorially, “It’s actually really romantic.”

 

Soonyoung groans louder. Seokmin’s been waiting for a moment like this since he found out about his crush within the first few weeks of school, when the elder would turn back to talk to him during rehearsal, but keep his gaze on the lanky drummer behind him.

 

Though, in his defence, there’s always been something captivating about Wonwoo’s piercing gaze as he practices technique and works through phrases of music.

 

“Alright, alright. Leave him alone.” He hears someone interject. Soonyoung looks up in time to see Jisoo flick Seokmin’s ear before turning back to Myungeun, one of the clarinetists he’s _abandoned for bigger and better things. Honestly, Jisoo-oppa, how could you?_ The clarinet section has always been one for melodramatics. Or maybe that’s just Myungeun.

 

She loops her arms around Soonyoung’s neck, so his back is pressed against her stomach and her chin rests on top of head. He tugs at her fingers before whining, “Myungeun, make them stop.” He jabs a finger at Seokmin and Jeonghan.

 

She snorts. “As if they’d listen to me.” She rocks him from side to side in her embrace for a few minutes, as they listen to Seokmin’s dramatic narration of his love life, before kissing his head, “Well, I’m off! I told Kyulkyung I would teach her how to play the runs so Jun stops biting her head off during drill. So you.” She untangles herself from him and moves to bump her hip against Junhui’s side, “Stop being so mean to her.”

 

Before he can open his mouth, Myungeun flips her hair and walks towards the freshman flutist.

 

Soonyoung and Myungeun weren’t always this affectionate. In fact, Soonyoung (regretfully)  remembers a time when he hated her. In their first year of high school, Myungeun and Wonwoo had dated for a brief two months. When they broke up, there were no tears or angsty fights or heartbroken professions of love (which is probably how Soonyoung would react if Wonwoo ever broke up with him). Instead, they had joked it off, saying that they were too good as friends to ever be anything more. Myungeun had confided in him that she and Wonwoo just never clicked romantically the way they do platonically, which Soonyoung respects. After all, he feels the same way about her.

 

He told her about his crush once, to which she replied, “Anyone with half an eye open can see that, Soonyoung. Lucky for you, Wonwoo is too unobservant to notice anything.”

 

Lucky, fortunate, blessed. All words that described Soonyoung until this afternoon when his entire life was aired out for the entire band to see.

 

Rude.

 

Soonyoung slams his head back down against the table.

 

He feels a hand carding through his hair. It’s probably Jisoo, or Junhui if the latter has decided to grant Soonyoung the slightest inkling of sympathy. He sighs pitifully.

 

“Can we not talk about this?”

 

“Talk about what?” He hears Seungcheol’s distinct voice and feels the hand in his hair stop moving. So it had been Jisoo, then.

 

Jihoon snorts, “Soonyoung’s bad decisions and lack of self control.”

 

A bout of laughter circulates the table and even Soonyoung cracks a smile. Maybe it’s not _all_ bad. After all, the only people who seem to know are his friends, a few other hopefully trustworthy randos, and, most importantly, _not_ Wonwoo.

 

Soonyoung shifts down a little to make room for the snare player, and watches Jisoo’s neck turn splotchy as Seungcheol leans unnecessarily close to him to grab the salt and pepper dispensers. He notes the amused glimmer in Jeonghan’s eyes as he watches the interaction.

 

So he isn’t the only one who has noticed. And here he thought Jeonghan would be too focused on chatting up Nayoung, the timp player, to notice anything else. Life is full of surprises.

 

“You mean Soonyoung-hyung’s crush on W- _What the fuck? Hyung!_ ”

 

Surprises like Boo _fucking_ Seungkwan.

 

Soonyoung stares at the boy and his now soggy, soda-infused burger with an expression that crossed between apologetic and incredulous.

 

“Soonyoung’s crush on who?” Wonwoo asks as he walks up to the table, moving to sit across from him and help Seungkwan blot the surrounding area with napkins.

 

Jeonghan snorts, Seokmin falls out of his chair, howling loudly, and even Jisoo can’t suppress his smile.

 

Later that night, they settle in for bed. Wonwoo’s cot is adjacent to the door, Soonyoung’s is pushed towards the opposite corner.

 

“So.” Wonwoo’s low voice cuts through the silence in the room. Soonyoung can make out his figure through the darkness. He’s lying down, head propped up on his arm.

 

“So.” Soonyoung copies, eyes trained on the younger. It comes out as a murmur, though.

 

“Who is he?” His voice is teasing but curious.

 

Soonyoung gulps. “Who is who?”

 

Wonwoo eyes narrow playfully, “Don’t mess with me, Soonyoung. Who’s the guy that stole your heart? And why haven’t I ever heard about him?”

 

“Because it’s you.” Soonyoung deadpans, chuckling lightly as he gives Wonwoo an exaggerated wink.

 

He, consequently, gets hit by one of Wonwoo’s dirty balled up socks.

 

“Cute.”

 

Soonyoung lobs it back. It hits the ceiling and falls nowhere near Wonwoo.

 

Wonwoo snorts, “Well, here’s hoping you have better luck with him than with your athletic abilities. Goodnight Soonyoung.”

 

Oh, how he wishes.

 

“Goodnight.”

* * *

The next morning, Soonyoung wakes at what seems like the crack of dawn, but when he checks his phone, it reads 6:36 AM.

 

Close enough.

 

They lead a pretty mundane routine during bandcamp. Breakfast at seven, thirty minutes for digestion, then straight into stretch block and basics for the longest hour of Soonyoung’s life.

 

He climbs out of bed to see a very shirtless (very attractive) Wonwoo towel drying his hair. Soonyoung never understood his need to shower twice a day, but like everything else about Wonwoo, he’d accept it and move on.

 

But Wonwoo doesn’t need to know that.

 

He whistles teasingly, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to hide his puffy face.

 

Wonwoo grins at him, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. “Have fun,” he gestures to Soonyoung’s toothbrush, “Hansol was taking the biggest shit when I left.” He reaches over to flick him in the ear, getting an affronted yelp from the latter.

 

“What if I don’t brush my teeth today?” Soonyoung is only half joking. The bathrooms really don’t spare anyone.

 

Wonwoo makes a face. “Ew. See, this is why you’re single.”

 

And whose fault is that?

 

Soonyoung sighs dramatically. “I’m single because everyone is taken or straight. It’s not easy being gay, you know. Have some compassion.”

 

Wonwoo rolls his eyes and wrinkles his nose. “Just go brush, your breath reeks.”

 

Soonyoung blows into his face once more and runs off before Wonwoo can retaliate.

 

“You suck, Soonyoung!”

 

He laughs and maybe it’s a little too hard or a little too loud and maybe it’s a little too genuine for it to seem believable but it effectively overpowers the sound of his thudding heart. He walks to the communal bathroom, which is already filthy even though they’ve only spent a day and a half at the damn place. He brushes his teeth and washes his face when Hansol comes out of one of the bathroom stalls.

 

“Hyung, you might not want to go in there for a while.” He grins cheekily before washing his hands in the sink next to Soonyoung.

 

If this had been anyone else, Soonyoung would have made some type of stinkface. But this is Soonyoung’s favorite freshman, Hansol. He was easily the most lax, easygoing first year Soonyoung has ever seen in the band, let alone in the drumline, and Soonyoung loves the change of pace Hansol provides.

 

He makes a face at the younger through the bathroom mirror and Hansol grins, “You know he keeps asking us about it now, right?”

 

He being Wonwoo, it being the crush, and denial being Soonyoung’s strongest ally.

 

Soonyoung puffs out his cheeks, “Well sure. But this will also blow over as soon as new drama comes along. My money's on Jisoo and Cheol-hyung.”

 

Which is true. Sojung told him that everyone’s been waiting for it since their freshman year, but, without fail, the two of them continue to dance around each other. Soonyoung listened to her vent about it for ten minutes during sectionals last year.

 

He’s pretty sure Nayoung and she have an active facebook group chat about it.

 

(He’s pretty sure the only other person in the group chat is Jeonghan.)

 

Hansol shrugs, “I dunno, people could say the same about you two.” He gathers his toiletries and heads out while Soonyoung gapes, stunned, with a mouthful of toothpaste.

 

He checks his phone after he finishes brushing. 6:52 AM. Rushing back to his cabin, he grabs his water, drill, sax case, bag of supplies, and heads out to the lounge to apply sunscreen and bugspray. He looks around the room, Jun and Jihoon are both ready to go, filling their jugs with ice and tap water. On the other side, Jeonghan and Wonwoo tying their shoes and getting ready to head out. What really catches his attention, however, is not Wonwoo (for once), but Jisoo and Seungcheol holding hands in the corner. Or rather, Seungcheol is moving Jisoo’s arms as he talks animatedly and Jisoo grins, staring at their fingers.

 

Soonyoung chances a glance at Jeonghan, who grins at him in acknowledgment.

 

What a way to start the day.

 

He makes his way to the canteen, bumping into a herd of sophomores. Picking out Seokmin, Myungho, and Mingyu, he loops his arm affectionately around the latter two, forcing them down to his height as they walk.

 

“Hello kiddies,” he calls out, grinning when he hears a chorus of meaningless hi’s.

 

Myungho ducks out from under his arm,once they reach the canteen, heading straight for the hot meal they’re offering this morning. Mingyu loops his arm around Soonyoung’s waist and they walk towards an open table.

 

Soonyoung likes how touchy feely Mingyu is, especially considering they don’t really know each other apart from mutual friends. But he’s helpful and proactive and cute and a halfway decent quad player considering he switched just this year from the bass line.

 

And it doesn’t hurt that he’s family friends with Wonwoo either.

 

Soonyoung’s eyes flicker around the canteen. He sees Seokmin by the cereal bar, his arm around his long time girlfriend, aka Jihoon’s co-marimba player, aka Jiyeon’s favorite person, aka everyone’s favorite person, Sujeong. Yuna is hanging off Eunbi again, in an act of romance or affection or something. Soonyoung thinks it’s incredibly unfair how young and happy and in love they are while he’s been pining over the same guy for almost six years now. (He’s bitter.) Jihoon plops down on the seat not occupied by Mingyu. He scopes the room again and sees Jeonghan and Wonwoo bringing a pitcher of orange juice and a tray of pancakes, respectively.

 

He doesn’t mean to stare at Wonwoo’s muscles, but look at his _form_. Who asked his forearms to look that sinful? Who asked him to look that fuckable? Soonyoung wets his bottom lip. He should probably jack off sometime soon.

 

Seokmin nudges him as he moves to sit down and grins, waggling his eyebrows and lowly humming Careless Whisper _again_.

 

He rolls his eyes and tosses a napkin at the younger, who merely says, “Get over it hyung. I’m never letting this go.”

 

Soonyoung sticks his tongue out at him, grabs the pitcher of orange juice that Jeonghan places on the table and pours himself a glass. He takes a sip.

 

“Gimme some too.” Wonwoo reaches over and takes a sip from his glass.

 

Soonyoung slaps his hand away and hisses, “Get your own, this is _mine_.” He holds the cup to his body possessively, but Wonwoo slaps him on his back in quick succession, successfully stealing it away when Soonyoung reflexively touches the assaulted spot. “Asshole.”

 

Wonwoo grins at him, cheeks puffed with nearly half of Soonyoung’s juice and refills the glass for him. It makes Soonyoung smile toothily and affectionately, as he takes his refilled cup.

 

Seokmin starts humming again while Soonyoung takes a huge gulp.

 

He almost spits it all out when Seungkwan starts harmonizing.

* * *

After breakfast, Soonyoung walks with Sojung and a freshman tenor, Eunwoo. Sojung had claimed her that morning, her new legacy child, ever since Eunbi went wayward and joined _the brass,_ instead of following in Sojung’s footsteps. There isn’t much time to chat between getting drill ready, putting everyone’s supplies away, and trying to pick the spot with optimal shade for the few moments of rest they receive.

 

Soonyoung ties up his laces and gets into the large block, when Disney music comes blasting through the portable speakers located on both ends of the 50. Stretch block is every bit as awful as it was his freshman year, not because of the actual stretching, but because of the team ‘unity’.

 

For every out of sync jumping jack, ten more will be added. Today, they did 120, followed by 10 reps of arm circles. Front, back, up, down, out, in. Never put your arms down, never bend them. For every arm that comes down, another rep will be added.

 

He’s already sweating buckets, reaching to pull his shirt up to wipe his face off. The sweat stings his eyes in a manner that is entirely unpleasant and has him squinting for the next command.

 

The jog. Or rather, death on all fronts.

 

The course spans from the makeshift football field towards the entrance of the camp, past the mess hall and infirmary, through the patch of grass bordering the lake, to the entrance of the woods, ie. a rather steep hill for a K-12 campsite, followed lastly by a straight, albeit rocky, road back to the field.

 

Soonyoung doesn’t have the most stamina, but he can keep up with the majority of them. The trick is to jog on the inside of the circle, something he learned from Jisoo and Sojung his freshman year. His dancing background keeps him towards the front of the herd of marchers, where he always has a great view of the drumlines’ asses, as they lead the jog around the perimeter of the camp. Normally Seungcheol, as section leader, would lead it, but today it’s Nayoung, her bright orange _I got skillz_ timpani t-shirt impossible to miss. He turns his head to look for the missing snare player, and finds him encouraging the stragglers along with Jisoo and Jeonghan. Or rather, the former two are motivating the marchers, while the latter is advising them to _relax, you just have to finish. It doesn’t actually matter how long you take_. (It does.)

 

“Do you think they’ll finally go out this year?” Soonyoung nearly stumbles as a deep voice pulls him out of his observations. He turns to find Wonwoo in a black muscle tee, and shorts that go down to his knees, hiding the delicious thighs he wants straddling his hips as-

 

He really needs to get laid.

 

“Maybe. If one of them would finally ask the other out,” he scoffs. “So not likely.”

 

Wonwoo grins, panting a little and jogs a little into Soonyoung’s path, teasingly. “You’re so sweaty.”

 

Soonyoung bumps him back, pushing him out of the way, sweat dripping down his burning neck. “I’m just more evolved. I can’t help it if you can’t handle heat as efficiently as I can.”

 

Wonwoo laughs loudly, though it comes out more like a wheeze than anything.

 

They hear a groan followed by a whine of “I don’t even march, why do I have to run?” and “Team unity is dead. No one helps me or the pit load up our instruments every night” and “This is injustice.”

 

They glance over to their right to see Seokmin and Sujeong jogging, matching expressions of pain and regret on both their faces.

 

Wonwoo laughs, “You can do it, Sujeong-ah.” He reaches over to ruffle her hair, effectively ruining her ponytail. She looks ready to unleash her annoyance again when Wonwoo grabs Soonyoung’s hand and tugs him further up in the cluster, away from her wrath.

 

“Nayoung-noona,” someone calls out, slightly out of breath, “Are we done yet?”

 

They have just collectively reached the bottom of the hill, where they stop and wait for the rest of the group to catch up. Most of the upperclassmen are jogging in place or stretching, anticipating the torture that comes with running the hill, Nayoung is a little higher up on the mountain, gaining footing and watching for the back of the line.

 

“Remember!” She calls out, staring into the mass of wheezing, panting, sweating band kids, “Match my pace. No one gets ahead of me, I don’t care how well you know this course. Please be mindful of the ground, you could trip on anything and hurt yourself, and that’s a pain in the ass for the rest of us. Understood?”

 

Soonyoung inhales and releases a loud acquiescent groan. He turns to Wonwoo, to let him know that he could go ahead, but he is distracted by biceps and broad shoulders. When did he take off his shirt? How did Soonyoung not see it happen?

 

He turns back around, mutely, getting in one final stretch, before Nayoung starts jogging into the woods, flanked by Sojung and some freshman, it might be that flute player Jun’s been intimidating, Kyulkyung, but he’s not too sure who all the newbies in the band are. A little ahead of him and the Jiyeon is talking to Seungkwan, or rather they’re both valiantly trying to maintain conversation while avoiding stray roots and branches. However, right next to him, Wonwoo’s jogging lightly, not sweating nearly as much as Soonyoung, his shirt peeking out of his gym shorts. His arms flex a little every time he takes a step, a testament to the type of conditioning the drumline goes through, and Soonyoung has a hard time keeping up with him while also keeping his eyes off of him.

 

So, it really should not as a surprise when he stumbles over a pretty conspicuous tree root, being thrown totally off balance, flailing as he falls with a thud. Thankfully, he had the mind to angle his body away from the stampede of joggers trying to get back to the field. However, in his efforts to regain balance, he seems to have brought someone down with him. A very chiseled, very muscular someone who is currently sprawled over his torso, expelling deep breaths far too close to Soonyoung’s ear, fingers digging into his waist. He wills himself not to get hard, to think of that time Mingyu got a drumstick stuck up his nose or that time Junhui showed him that video of an elephant giving birth, but it’s hard when Wonwoo’s thigh is pressed so closely to his crotch.

 

He can hear people running past them, but he can’t focus on anything that isn’t _Wonwoo_. That is, until he hears Wonwoo’s breath catch, his thigh pressing harder into Soonyoung’s rising semi. He accidentally lets out a quiet moan, shared between the two of them. Suddenly, he’s painfully aware of the situation, and sits up shakily as Jisoo approaches them, concerned.

 

“Are you guys ok?” He kindly positions himself in front of the sun so Soonyoung doesn’t have to squint up at him.

 

Wonwoo is already up, and gives them both a nod, “I’m heading back first. I’ll let someone know that Soonyoung fell.”

 

As he turns to jog, Soonyoung is sure he sees Wonwoo stare at him with something akin to confusion. He can’t even be bothered to watch Wonwoo’s back flex as he effortlessly makes his way up the dirt trail.

 

Jisoo kneels down and applies the shoddy first aid training he was forced to learn before camp, “You think you can march?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. And then he smirks, his eyes flickering down, “You might need to cool off a little, don’t you think?”

 

Soonyoung _isn’t_ pouting (and, to be honest, he’s not even noticeably hard anymore), and he thanks everything that the two people who know of his predicament are the same two people who would never blab it to anyone. Well...Wonwoo might tell Junhui or Myungeun or Jihoon to get a second perspective. And Jisoo would probably let it slip to Seungcheol, while he’s word vomiting about who knows what, who’d definitely accidentally tell the entire drumline...and pit...and Jeonghan.

 

“Can I go to the nurse?” he asks, face scrunched up in embarrassment.

 

Jisoo winks at him, before announcing, “Yeah, here. Let’s get you to the nurse. I think you have a concussion.”

 

He stands up and pulls Soonyoung up with him, supporting his weight when Soonyoung vindictively slumps against him. Seungcheol and Jeonghan pass by them, matching looks of concern directed at him, though he notices Seungcheol sneaking a glance at Jisoo, who yelps and stumbles a little when Soonyoung spazzes him teasingly.

 

Jisoo hisses lowly, bumping Soonyoung’s hip, “Remember that I’m not the one who got a hard-on from an accidental hug.”

 

Soonyoung’s definitely _not_ pouting.

* * *

Jisoo had sat next to him on the bed while the nurse fussed around, nagging them about being careful and taking care of their bodies and youth being the best thing about life. They’d both lent a deaf ear to what she had to say.

 

Jisoo is Soonyoung’s favorite senior. They met during the first week of band when Jisoo offered to help show him the ropes and survive the season. It was Jisoo who introduced him to the other upperclassmen, gave him water when he ran out because all he bought was one little bottle, made sure he was staying up to date with classes, and looked out for him as much as his own section’s freshman. Later, Soonyoung learnt that Jisoo was actually trying to switch him over to his own section, though it didn’t really work.

 

“Do you think we missed basics,” Soonyoung asks, wishing, hoping, praying that he won’t have to endure the mundane, mandatory conditioning they’re required to do.

 

Jisoo and he are jogging the rest of the way back to the track, finishing the course. “I hope not. Conducting during drill is so annoying. If I have to hear ‘Keep your eyes on Snare 3. It’s all about keeping time with Snare 3’ one more time,” he mimics their director’s husky, demanding voice, “I’ll throw myself off the ladder.”

 

Soonyoung snorts, and nearly slips, if not for the elder’s hands stabilizing him at the waist. “You can’t do that, hyung. How will Seungcheol live?” He slaps the back of his hand to his forehead, dramatically “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

 

Jisoo rolls his eyes and shrugs, “Nothing. Everything? I don’t know. It’s weird to think about being in an actual relationship, and not just, y'know, flirting all the time. It’s not as serious as everyone thinks it is. We’re just doing our own things right now with, like, college and everything.”

 

Soonyoung stops jogging abruptly, forcing Jisoo to come to a halt as well. They’re by the clearing already, the field is almost in sight.

 

He smells bullshit.

 

“You two are dating.” Soonyoung points an accusatory finger at him.

 

Jisoo pales and bites his lip. This just keeps getting better and better. He puts up two fingers.

 

“Two what? Days? Weeks? Months? _Years?_ ” His voice carries with more disbelief with each word.

 

“Months. It’s been two months. But don’t tell. Me, him, and Han have a bet going about how long it’ll take people to find out.” He bends down to retie his sneaker laces.

 

Soonyoung grins conspiratorially and resumes his jog. “Interesting.”

 

They reach the field to see the band setting up for the second movement, having finished basics already.

 

Soonyoung grabs his drillbook and runs to his dot, halfway between the 20 and the 25, leaving Jisoo to confer with the techs on the field. As he jogs past the drumline, he gives Seungcheol a reassuring thumbs up and an eyebrow waggle. Wonwoo doesn’t look at him once.

 

He frowns, skidding to his spot and positioning himself at standby, and then he remembers. The fall, the panting, the boner, the look in Wonwoo’s eyes.

 

It’s his own fault for being so damn wound up. All it took was a fucking thigh against his crotch and he was nearly raring to go.

 

Fuck.

 

“Set.”

 

Soonyoung grimaces, looking for the other out of the corner of his eye. Wonwoo averts his eyes.

 

The countdown is set by the metronome and he snaps back to attention, not wanting a replay of yesterday, but the feeling doesn’t sit well with him.

 

The rest of drill has him far away from Wonwoo, whether that’s a blessing or a curse, he’s not sure. But it leaves unfamiliar distaste on Soonyoung’s tongue, something he’s never associated with Wonwoo.

 

“We’re okay, right?” he’d asked quietly, during a break they’d gotten before lunch. Soonyoung didn’t get a response.

 

Maybe he’s just weirded out by the entire situation. Maybe Soonyoung could just “no homo” it. Anything to make Wonwoo speak to him again, look at him again.

 

Soonyoung alternates between moping and plotting. He stares at him between drill sets, between reps, during water breaks, during leisure breaks, _anything_ to even get a means of apologizing to him.

 

So far, nothing has worked.

 

Sectionals is nothing short of a mess for Soonyoung, who can’t think of anything other than how to get his best friend back. How one accidental boner has lost him six years of friendship. Each alto is being asked to play the run at letter G in the 3rd movement, because it _sounds muddy, like a four year old played it with his ass. I want it perfect._ Sojung barely makes a hitch, her pinky accidentally catching on the wrong key. She winces and rolls it around then massages the kinks in her fingers. Soonyoung is next, and only then does he notice how chipped his reed is, looking more like a heartline monitor than an even parabolic curve.

 

He’s so upset he’s thinking in math terms.

 

And he murdered his reed.

 

Sliding the reed up, the way Sojung had taught him his freshman year, right before their first competition, he plays the passage of music twice. It’s by no means his best, but it’s passable, if only a little sharp and a little rushed. A freshman is playing now, or rather, they’re muddling the part and playing four dynamics louder the forte they’re meant to be playing at.

 

Sojung tugs at his neckstrap, wincing when she feels the moistness through the fabric, “Soonyoung, you’re ok right?”

 

His jaw drops, “Did Jisoo-hyung say something? You know he’s got a lot of guts gossiping about me and Wonwoo, considering his dirty little secr-” He shuts up when Sojung gives him the strangest look.

 

“I meant from this morning. But you seem to have a lot of secrets to share, please do.” She folds her arms over her chest, though it doesn’t exactly work when her sax is pressed into the cleft between her breasts, the mouthpiece in her face. She unclips the instrument efficiently, places it on the ground, and reassumes her position. “Well?”

 

“Standby.”

 

Soonyoung has never been so happy to hear Jisoo’s voice. It positively twinkles in the air.

 

“Can’t talk, we’re in rehearsal. Sorry.”

 

He deserves the kick in the shin Sojung gives him as they all file towards the dining hall for dinner. They both move to sit at the table a little off to the right, but not too far right to be deemed reclusive. Junhui had said _it’s cool because it’s center adjacent_ but what he really meant is _there is a notorious leak above the center table, but let’s let the newbies figure that out._ He drops his stuff in the seat next to Wonwoo, not turning to see if the latter is ok with it, and goes to create his own shitty sub at the cold cuts station. When he returns to his seat, he sees Wonwoo and Myungeun laughing together at the table across from him, their backs to him.

 

Soonyoung frowns, taking a large bite out of his sub. Honestly, he should quit him cold turkey as well. What goes around, comes around.

 

Fuck Wonwoo. (Oh, how he’d like to.)

 

_Focus, Soonyoung._

 

He goes back to chomping on his sandwich, a bland and disappointing combination of turkey, cheese, and tomatoes, glaring at the former couple. He bitterly watches Wonwoo reach over and tousle Jiyeon’s hair. He’s probably doing that adorable thing where his nose flares while he smiles, but Wonwoo is straight and, evidently, repulsed by the idea that a guy could even have feelings for him.

 

But Wonwoo is better than that. Maybe he’s just repulsed because it’s Soonyoung.

 

He gets up to throw out his food and retire for the evening, abandoning the team building exercises Jisoo and the staff were forced to come up with. He gives his table a nod goodbye and barely glances Wonwoo’s way.

 

It’s not like the other would care either way.

 

He’s going to be sick.

* * *

Soonyoung wakes up at 6:15 AM and stumbles outside, banging his toe against the doorframe. He shivers a little before plopping down on the couch, breathing into his hands. He snuggles into his blanket, a counterproductive measure in his attempt to wake himself up. He sits there for a few minutes before deciding to take a shower, seeing as he’s covered in yesterday’s filth, sweat, sadness, and desperation. Gathering his supplies, he fails to see Wonwoo in bed. He wants to wonder where the other is, but he forces himself not to care.

 

 _I don’t care. I don’t care._ He chants in his mind when he opens the door to the bathroom shack. Wonwoo is there, shirtless, naked, taking his stupid morning, mosquito-attracting shower. Soonyoung silently, stupidly gets into the stall next to him and slips off his clothes.

 

“I’m sorry.” He says it loud enough for the other to hear, that much he knows. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. We can forget about it. Please just…talk to me. I miss you.”

 

All he gets in response is a grunt, and he lets his head thud against the shower walls, cleaning off yesterday’s disappointment but letting today’s anxiety wash over him completely.

 

Back at the cabin, _he’s_ lounging with Junhui and Jihoon in the common room. They seem to be discussing something intently. Soonyoung wants to say something, anything, to warrant a response. Instead, he heads for his room, to grab his stuff and figure out the Wonwoo thing.

 

He has a few minutes to himself, before he needs to make his way for breakfast. He lays down on his bed, eyes closed, dreaded anticipation bubbling in his stomach.

 

“Why won’t you just talk to me,” Soonyoung groans, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He doesn’t get an answer, not that he was expecting one.

 

He slowly gathers his things and peeps outside his window. Only Jeonghan is lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone.

 

“Hyung, aren’t you gonna come eat?”

 

Jeonghan sighs, “I told Shua I would write his speech for tonight.”

 

Tonight?

 

“What’s tonight?”

 

“It’s for the thing tonight. Jisoo wrote a pep speech but it was really lame so I told him I’d fix it.” Jeonghan sits up, and clears his throat, “ _‘Remember, there is a we in team if you turn the m upside down.’_ Do you see why I have to do damage control?”

 

Ew. Soonyoung snorts, “Come to breakfast with me, hyung. I’ll help you write it. We can fuck with Nayoung-noona too.”

 

Jeonghan gets up, smiling brightly, “I knew you were my favorite for a reason. Let’s go!”

 

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, biting back a smile. He always falls for Jeonghan’s ploys, though these days it’s more of a deliberate excuse to spend time with him.

 

By the time they reach the canteen for breakfast, there’s only twelve minutes to scarf down food. They sit with Eunbi and Yuna, two tables down from their usual table, heads bent over the wrinkly loose leaf paper that is filled with shitty jokes and poorly executed sentiment, courtesy of Jisoo.

 

Soonyoung winces as he reads yet another brass pun, crossing it out with his pencil and rephrasing the entire sentence with better delivery. He eyes Eunbi and Yuna’s clasped hands and frowns, continuing his work.

 

“Boys suck, especially when they ignore you.” He hears Jeonghan say, “What does that have to do with anything, Soonyoung?”

 

He looks down and sure enough, he’s angrily etched out a tiny rant indirectly calling Wonwoo out. He huffs, “Fuck. Shit. I mean brass. Jisoo hyung is always complaining about how they ignore him when he tells them things.”

 

Jeonghan looks unconvinced, “If this is about Wonwoo,” Soonyoung shifts uncomfortably at the mention of his name, “we can talk to him.”

 

Soonyoung smiles. He loves his friends. “No, it’ll be ok. We should go though, practice starts soon.”

 

Morning practice meshes into afternoon sectionals which meshes into meals and break time. Soonyoung alternates his time between being alarmingly aware of Wonwoo’s person and focusing on himself and his section.

 

By nighttime, they’ve nearly finished learning the drill and are going through it repeatedly. They’re standing in a box formation for the penultimate section of the performance. Soonyoung takes a subtle step to his right to fully cover behind Junhui. They stand in the front field, rigidly in set, waiting for commands to be called.

 

“Drumline. Move your dots to right behind the box. We’re adding a dosido for 8 counts.” He hears shuffling behind him, and waits for the next instruction, desperately trying not to think about Wonwoo.

 

Turn back in two counts, exchange spots with your partner and come back to your original spot in ten. Soonyoung just barely slackens in position, instrument hanging off his neckstrap, supported by one hand. The body movements are a little dry, even for band camp. He considers pitching new ideas, and files the thought away for when the school year starts. They’re going to rep the new move, because repetition seems to really work. Soonyoung lazily turns around to face his partner. Mingyu grins at him, knees bent a little to accommodate his quads. Wonwoo is three people down, studying his drum intently, with no regard for Soonyoung at all. He can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Hopefully it doesn’t show on his face.

 

The first time they run it, Soonyoung’s sax almost hits the drums. He hears a yelp and turns in time to see Myungeun “accidentally” jab Junhui in the side. The second time, it’s a lot smoother. Soonyoung makes a wider turn to accommodate Mingyu and Junhui pulls Myungeun’s hair twice in retaliation. They run it a few more times before it’s deemed acceptable.

 

“Jisoo, keep your eyes on Seungcheol at all times. You two keep time. If your timing is off, the band has no chance.” The command booms over the speaker.

 

He turns around to see Seungcheol squinting up at Jisoo, one hand on his drum, the other on his harness. He gives him a nod, but Soonyoung catches the wink. He smirks up at Jisoo, waggling his eyebrows, and Jisoo rolls his eyes dramatically, subtly mimicking the act of diving off the ladder he’s currently on, before getting his arms up and ready for the cue to begin conducting.

 

Wonwoo is still ignoring him, so he must be imagining the looks he thinks are directed at him.

 

It’s distressing, how quickly their relationship has shifted (in the complete opposite way of how Soonyoung wanted).

 

When they pack up their instruments for the night, he sees both the drumline and pit loading the band truck where the percussion stores their equipment. If this had been any other day, he might have roped Junhui into helping them out, if only to bother Wonwoo and Jihoon.

 

He wishes this could have been any other day.

 

He sighs, removing the mouthpiece from the neck of his sax, grimacing when a glop of spit falls on his knee and wiping it off with one of his sweatbands.

 

A hand cards through his messy, sweaty, grimy hair, and he leans into the touch. “What’s wrong?” Myungeun plops down next to him, clarinet case by her side.

 

Soonyoung shakes his head. It isn’t fair to drag others through his drama. He’s the one that fucked up, he’s the one that needs to deal with it.

 

Myungeun rolls her eyes, but her tone is gentle and a little patronizing, but Soonyoung knows it’s deliberately being used to get him to talk.

 

“It’s nothing I can’t take care of.” He turns to her with a smile that neither of them believe to be genuine but, thankfully, she lets it go with narrowed eyes and pursed lips.

 

“If you say so.” She stands up, lightly stretching before giving Soonyoung a hand.

 

They walk off towards the cabins when Soonyoung slings his arm around Myungeun’s neck, her arm automatically going to his waist.

 

“Do you think he hates me?” His voice is small, and he almost wishes she doesn’t hear it.

 

She scoffs, “Please, as if he ever could.” Soonyoung doubts that. “Look. If he’s being off, he’s probably just working through some things. You know how he gets all fucking introspective and woe is me. Just talk to him.” With that, she squeezes his hip once, and sets off towards her cabin.

 

Talk to him. As if he hasn’t tried already. But he knows how stubborn Wonwoo can be. How good he is at deflecting people. How he needs time to figure himself out. How he likes to reflect on himself and collect his thoughts in private. How he pulls back from people when he’s uncomfortable or disappointed. How the crinkle in his eye, the one where one eye squints a little more than the other, disappears when he smiles. How any other smile isn’t a real smile, but a cover for underlying discomfort and awkwardness.

 

He fucking hates that he’s the cause of it.

 

Grabbing his showering supplies, not bothering to check whether the other was in the room or not, he sets out to shower.

 

He’s going to fix this.

* * *

He walks in for Senior Night with Jisoo and Jeonghan, who immediately go to sit with all of their batchmates. He’s looking for his friends, when he catches it.

 

Wonwoo is watching him. Subtly, but Soonyoung can tell from the way his body is angled, the way his eyebrows are furrowed, and the way his lips uncurl themselves, impassively as Soonyoung gets closer, adopting a demeanor of bullshit indifference. Wonwoo turns to head into the crowd, away from Soonyoung.

 

No. Not this time.

 

Soonyoung grinds his teeth, keeping his eyes trained on the other boy, following him.

 

Was he just blowing it out of proportion? Did he hurt Wonwoo? Did he ruin things beyond repair?

 

He corners Wonwoo by the food table and drags him outside. They stand face to face, neither one daring to break eye contact and be the first to look away.

 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” It comes out quieter than he would have liked, more hurt than he intended to let on, but still unwavering.

 

Wonwoo winces, as if he’s just seeing the impact of his actions, “I just needed space from you to figure stuff out.”

 

He wants space. Distance. From Soonyoung.

 

Ouch.

 

He steps back, trying to give Wonwoo as much space as he’d like in this tiny hallway.

 

“Figure what out? I’m the one who likes _you_ .” It stings even more to say it out loud, “I’m the one who’s been getting teased and laughed at and embarrassed because everyone thought it was fucking hilarious that _you didn’t know_.”

 

He notes the way he shuffles away from Soonyoung. The look of guilt in Wonwoo’s eyes, the creasing in his forehead, the frown on his lips.

 

“You knew.”

 

It’s not a question, because he’s known how to read Wonwoo for far too long, and he can see the bit lip and drooping shoulders, and he hears the sigh in acquiescence with his statement.

 

“For a while.”

 

With those three words, Soonyoung loses all of his fight.

 

“How?”

 

He stares, frantic, unblinking, as Wonwoo opens his mouth. “You were never exactly subtle, Soonyoung.” He zeroes in on the sheepish, almost affectionate quirk toying at the younger’s lips.

 

His heart is racing, heart pounding, face burning. Whether in anger or in embarrassment or in shock or whatever else Soonyoung must be feeling, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t need butterflies. He needs answers.

 

He deserves answers.

 

“And, what? You didn’t think to-” Soonyoung pauses, searching for the right word, desperately trying to get a grasp on the situation, “-to let me down easy? To reject me and and move on? To let _me_ move on?”

 

“Oh, so it’s like that.” Wonwoo stands straight from his slouched position, towering over Soonyoung’s hunched stature in an instant. His glare is heated, voice rough from frustration, “How was I supposed to bring it up? _Oh hey Soonyoung! I know you like me! Don’t really feel the same way. Sorry about that! What’s the math homework again?_ ” His voice is pitched high and mocking, and it makes Soonyoung flinch, not in fear but in frustration, “Don’t fucking pin this all on me. Yeah, I fucked up but _I didn’t know what to do._ ”

 

Soonyoung takes another step back. “You didn’t know what to do? How about instead of avoiding me, you could have _told_ me. We’re fucking friends, we’re supposed to work things out. Sure, it would have sucked at first, but at least, I wouldn’t have pined over you for so long. I would have found someone else. I could ha-”

 

“I was going to, at first,” Wonwoo interjects, the intensity in his voice has shifted but hasn’t diminished.“But then, I didn’t want you to find someone else.”

 

What the fuck does that mean? Soonyoung stares at the other boy, jaw slack, eyes narrowed, not talking, not blinking, not moving.

 

Wonwoo shifts uncomfortably, “I liked it. I liked knowing that I meant so much to you.”

 

He breathes harshly. He feels so used, so manipulated and cheated and betrayed.

 

This was all a… a validation thing?

 

Wonwoo _liked_ that Soonyoung was en route to falling in love with him. He liked knowing how Soonyoung felt, how much he liked him. Soonyoung thinks back to all the close calls throughout the years and the secret smiles Wonwoo would try to suppress. At the time, he thought Wonwoo was laughing at the stupid extent to which Soonyoung would try to make sense of those situations without revealing his secret.

 

But Wonwoo fucking knew.

 

“Why are you telling me this now? Because now I know that you know? Because you’re scared I’ll make a move? You want to cut me off for good?” It’s harsh, a blatant taunt, but he’s isn’t sorry.

 

Wonwoo steps forward, his face scrunched in anger, “Why would I ever want to cut you off for good, Soonyoung?”

 

Soonyoung’s heartbeat quickens. There are too many emotions and hurt for this to end well.

 

He stares at Wonwoo, anger and sadness bursting through his veins, his heart racing, “No, you don’t get to say that? Especially not now. I can’t do this with you.” He can’t lose Wonwoo. “ _Fuck._ Do you even realize how much I like you?” He takes a deep breath, rubbing his face, “We’re not going to do this. Because you’re too important to me and I don’t want to hate you. Let’s just-” He clears his throat, turning away from Wonwoo, “You wanted space, right? Me too. I need it. So let’s just stop.”

 

Soonyoung leaves before Wonwoo can see him cry.

 

He reaches the cabin, tears welling in his eyes, and it’s far too quiet when he approaches his bed. He strips down and climbs under his covers. The bed feels scratchy under his weight, but the rawness is a nice reprieve for the pain.

 

He’s going to get shit from the staff for missing mandatory events, but he can’t be bothered. It can’t be nearly as awful as whatever the fuck just happened.

 

Wiping his eyes with his shirt sleeve, he turns to face the wall. He stares and he stares and he tries to make sense of it all.

 

He hates that he’s being so dramatic. He hates that he’s basically aired out his problems for everyone to witness and comment on. His stomach clenches uncomfortably at the thought of practice tomorrow, what with the stares and the whispers and the unwarranted commentary.

 

But there’s not much he can do, he knows that. He hates that he has no control, though it’s not like he ever does where Wonwoo’s concerned.

 

And maybe that’s the issue. That he’s given so much of himself to a fictitious relationship that will never be anything more than platonic. That he’s deluded himself into believing that he could honestly have more than just friendship with Wonwoo. That he’s been trying so hard for a guy that he’s never had a chance with.

 

But, then again, Soonyoung has been aware of all of this from the very beginning.

 

And, apparently, so has Wonwoo.

 

The tears welling in his eyes, the ones he’s tried to contain for too long, are streaming down his face more in humiliation than anything else.

 

He’s humiliated at being blindsided like this, by someone he considered a friend. For feeling so much, for thinking so much, for giving _so much_ and being played for who knows how long.

 

The more he thinks about it, the more he replays the events in his head, the more he burns with anger and bitterness.

 

It’s an interesting thing. He knows he’s not thinking straight, he knows his emotions are clouding his mind. But he doesn’t care. He’s done with the mind games, the not knowing, the lies.

 

He’s done with Wonwoo.

* * *

Jisoo wakes him up the next morning, an indecent 5:30 AM, asking if he wants to talk, and he would, but Wonwoo is sleeping in the bed right next to his and he’d rather not be in the same room as him.

 

Somehow, he feels lighter but still weighed down, the feelings from yesterday reduced to an ominously dull ache. He doesn’t know how exactly to put it into words. Kind of like how he feels for Wonwoo.

 

Felt for Wonwoo. As in past tense. As in not anymore.

 

Hopefully.

 

He gives Jisoo a false smile, but Soonyoung’s transparency must betray him because the look he receives back screams _who are you trying to fool_?

 

So he spills. It’s therapeutic, with Jisoo nodding along, not necessarily saying anything but listening to him nonetheless.

 

“I’m fine, hyung. I just...need to not be around him for awhile. Figure out how to move on and then, y’know...actually move on.” He doesn’t know if he’s reassuring Jisoo or himself. He winces slightly, “How much do people know?”

 

The dreaded question. How much do people know? How much of his life is in the public domain. They’re both largely private people, and he really doesn’t want the aftermath of his impulsiveness to cost them their privacy. He doesn’t deserve that.

 

And neither does _he_.

 

Jisoo shrugs, “No one really knows what happened. He came back really angry? But also really sad and you didn’t show up so I guess people might have made some assumption about what happened. But he didn’t say anything. At all, actually. He just kinda sat there by the pizza. I’m pretty sure he was pouting and glaring at the same time.” Jisoo snorts, rubbing his neck slightly, “It was actually kind of adorable.”

 

It’s really pathetic how Soonyoung’s heart swoops at the thought of Wonwoo pouting, how he needs to remind himself that he’s angry. He glares at the elder. “Hyung, you’re not exactly helping the cause right now.”

 

“The Get Over Wonwoo cause?” Jisoo nudges him teasingly and Soonyoung can’t help but smile. Sure, the wound is new, but the jokes help, make him feel neither fragile nor pitiful.

 

“More like the Avoid Wonwoo Because Feelings Suck cause.” He flops backwards on the couch, "I  _hate_ them."

 

At that, Jisoo stares at him, lips pursed in contemplation for a few moments. “It seems like you’re upset, not so much at him but at yourself.” Soonyoung’s eyebrows rise up, face tilting defensively away from the former who hastily clarifies, “I mean, what he did was shitty. But, it wasn’t malicious, you know that. And I don’t think you want to lose him either.”

 

Oh. Well, yeah, he doesn’t want to lose Wonwoo. That’s never been up for debate. But that doesn’t change anything.

 

“It’s so humiliating, hyung.” He says just as quietly, face burning, “I felt so gross and used, like... the only reason he kept me around was to boost his ego? And I just…I never thought _he_ would do this to me.” He slumps into Jisoo’s side and whispers,“I really wish he would have just told me. I wish he trusted me enough to know that nothing would change.”

 

Jisoo nods, “I’m not sure what the right thing to do is, but, I think we both know that’s not Wonwoo.” Soonyoung bites his lip. Yeah, he knows. “I think you should talk to him.”

 

Soonyoung’s breath hitches, “I can’t. I just, it’s so exhausting and...I don’t want to talk to him right now. I can’t.”

 

“Ok.” Jisoo strokes his hair, but it’s at a weird angle and feels awkward more than comforting and they both know the moment has ended.

 

Soonyoung smiles at Jisoo.

  
This one is genuine.

* * *

Avoiding Wonwoo proves to be almost as impossible a feat as getting Wonwoo to stop avoiding him.

 

Everywhere he turns, Wonwoo is there by his side, not necessarily talking to him, but he’s there and it’s making moving on that much harder.

 

Soonyoung knows it isn’t anger. He’s not mad at Wonwoo. Because the more he thinks about it, the more he gets it. Why Wonwoo wouldn’t bring it up for so long, why he’d react the way he did. He gets it because he gets Wonwoo.

 

But that doesn’t make it any easier. It doesn’t make any of the feelings go away.

 

“Soonyoung, please talk to me.” He murmurs at the end of rehearsal, before they perform their final runthrough for the camp staff, to which Soonyoung thrusts his water jug into his arms (because he knows Wonwoo will need it) and stalks off, shakily, towards the field.

 

It hurts but he doesn’t know what to feel. The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders if he overreacted. He doesn’t know.

 

He’s not entirely unobservant, he knows his friends keep side eyeing them. Junhui had given up his seat at breakfast when the only other spot was next to a brooding Wonwoo and Seokmin and Sujeong had walked with him down to the field, keeping him properly engaged on anything and everything. He suspects that it was Nayoung and Jeonghan that covered for him when the staff asked about his absence last night.

 

But Wonwoo is still everywhere, sending him apologetic glances and he wants to forgive him. Wants to hug him and say _it’s ok_. But is it?

 

Soonyoung sets up on the field, standing tall, forgetting about everything but the performance at hand. His neckstrap is tugging him forward, from the weight of his sax, so he grabs it with both hands. He looks around the field, they’re all standing in their representative band t-shirts and ugly khaki shorts, looking various degrees of exhausted, pissed, and anxious for the performance.

 

The first show sets the tone for the entire season. The first cracked note, the first misstep, the first curved diagonal. It all matters.

 

The first fight sets the tone for the entire relationship. The first conflict, the first resolution, the first steps to forgiveness. It all matters.

 

Soonyoung sighs as he sees Jisoo climb to the top of the drum major ladder, the metronome is clicking away, piercing through the air, but he loves it.

 

Jisoo’s arms come up, ready to conduct.

 

Show time.

 

It’s all a blur. It always is. One minute they’re on the field and the next minute, Soonyoung is drenched in sweat, his reed has four new chips in it, and they’re huddled up at the 50 yard line, cheering over a successful performance.

 

Sojung hugs him from behind when everyone has dispersed to pack up for the trip home. They’re in the throng of band kids walking back to the cabins. “Soonyoung! I’m free! No more band camp! No more jogs of death. I’m done.” He grins, nudging her with his head, “Ew, gross! You’re so sweaty.”

 

He scoffs, pushing her off, “Yeah, because you smell like flowers and sunshine right now.”

 

Flipping her hair, she winks, “Oh, always. I’m perfect, didn’t you know?” He goes to flick her but she laughs and runs out of his reach, towards the girls cabins.

 

He’s in high spirits when he walks back to his room, and opens the door to see Wonwoo and Seungcheol sitting on the bed, talking.

 

He stills as their eyes meet his alarmingly fast, the conversation shutting down instantly. “I’ll just come back when you’re done.”

 

He moves towards the door but is stopped by Seungcheol getting up and manhandling him into the room. “No! Just pack, it’s fine. Wonwoo and I can go outside.”

 

He leaves, and Wonwoo gets up to follow, neither sleeping bag nor duffle in hand, scratching his head awkwardly. He looks like he wants to say something, so Soonyoung turns away from him completely.

 

Soonyoung has forgiven Wonwoo. He knows that for certain. He also knows that he feels the same about Wonwoo as he always has. He knows that separation will be good for him, to sort out his emotions, so they can put this behind them.

 

He hears a huff, a few footsteps, and the door shuts behind him.

 

He hopes that he’s doing the right thing.

* * *

One perk of being an upperclassmen is that they get first dibs on seating. Soonyoung sits a few seats from the end, in what he hopes is a strategic maneuver to keep him out of Wonwoo’s line of sight. But of course, everyone peals off into their twos and when the latter climbs aboard the bus, having finally loaded his luggage, the only spots left are with some freshman flute player two rows from the front and Soonyoung. He knows Wonwoo zeroes in on the empty space next to him, he knows because he presses himself closer to the window with every step closer the younger takes. He holds his breath when Wonwoo takes a seat next to him lest his breath hitches because despite it all, the younger still took his morning shower and still smells distinctly like the cheap store brand soap he bought for camp.

 

They sit in silence for long enough that Soonyoung falls into a sense of comfortability, watching the scenery zoom by rapidly through the window. It sounds rather poetic, but they’re on the freeway and he’s been counting the window of the vehicles he passes.

 

Wonwoo clears his throat quietly, yet loudly enough to cut through the silence, “Soonyoung.”

 

Soonyoung glances at him briefly, out of reflex, and he’s trapped in the piercing eyes that stare at him, determined, pleading.

 

“I told you I needed to figure some things out. But I never told you what.”

 

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, tearing his eyes off the younger to stare back out the window.

 

_Don’t talk to him. Don’t talk to him. Don’t talk t-_

 

“If this is your apology, it’s not a very good one.”

 

Damn it, Soonyoung.

 

“I needed to figure out how I felt about you.”

 

What the fuck does that mean?

 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Soonyoung turns to him, eyes peering into the side of Wonwoo’s head.

 

“It means that it took you moaning in my ear for me to realize how much I like you.” He pauses, holding out his hand for Soonyoung to take.

 

He takes it. (He’s so weak.)

 

“And, by that, I mean we should go out sometime. Like...a date. Like...I’m asking you out on a date.” Wonwoo intertwines their fingers, staring at them intently, unbothered by Soonyoung’s unblinking eyes trained on him. “Or an apology dinner for being a total dick to you.”

 

Soonyoung should get kudos for being so resilient in this moment of absolute crisis because _what the fuck_.

 

“What if I say no?”

 

Soonyoung watches his eyebrows quirk up instinctively, a sign that he’s amused more than anything else.

 

Dick.

 

“I should say no. You don’t deserve me,” he reasserts, though it’s mostly directed towards himself.

 

Wonwoo nods, squeezing his hand, “That’s true. But I can’t promise I won’t try, every day, to change your mind.”

 

Soonyoung stares at him. He stares, his heart heavy but desperate for Wonwoo. He’s not strong enough to say no to him. He feels too much to even want to say no. He wants this. He wants to try. He wants to kiss Wonwoo, and date him, and someday, _hopefully_ , fall in love with him. He wants, he wants, he _wants_.

 

And- why is Wonwoo leaning in?

 

“I’m going to kiss you now. Stop me if you don’t want this. Because I _really_ don’t want to be just friends, Soonyoung.” The husky voice comes out and Soonyoung shudders from the sound of his name rolling off of the younger’s tongue.

 

Their lips are already brushing against each other from sheer proximity when Wonwoo presses his lips against Soonyoung’s, carefully, gently.

 

Soonyoung feels a rush of warmth flooding his cheeks, as he moves his hands from his lap to the other’s shoulders and pushes him away lightly. He’s so overwhelmed. He’s so _fucking_ overwhelmed. “You can’t do that.” He’s breathless, pushing Wonwoo away to stare at him bewilderedly. “You can’t just...kiss it better. You really fucked me up.”

 

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow and he removes himself from Soonyoung’s person. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. You know I would never. I just thought it was the best thing to do.” He lets out a deprecating chuckle, “I didn’t know it would come to this. I really fucking hate that it came to this, Soony-”

 

Soonyoung presses himself into Wonwoo, kissing him deeply, because he knows. And he wants the other to know he’s forgiven. He wants to move past this, to move on. “Next time, please just talk to me. I can’t go through this again.”

 

“Promise.” Wonwoo chases his lips, kissing him again and again, small, teasing kisses that leave them both wanting more.

 

“You didn’t tell me you liked boys.” It’s a murmured accusation against his lips, Soonyoung’s eyes are closed.

 

Wonwoo presses in again, a little more insistent and intimate, “I didn’t know until a few days ago.” He rivals Soonyoung’s confused, incredulous tone with his own breathless one, and it speaks volumes as the latter blinks in disbelief.

 

“You like boys.”

 

Wonwoo nods.

 

“You like _me_.”

 

Wonwoo nods again.

 

“You like the idea of us dating and holding hands and being gross and stuff?”

 

Wonwoo sighs and nods a third time, crowding Soonyoung against the window of the bus, “I love the idea of that, yeah. But, I’d love to kiss you even more. Can I?”

 

Soonyoung’s heart hammers against his chest but his smile is blinding and he’s never felt more at ease.

 

That is, until Mingyu yells from a few rows up, “ _Gross!_ Wonwoo-hyung and Soonyoung-hyung are making out.”

Soonyoung makes an incredibly unattractive noise, pulling as far away as he can and yells back, “Shut the fuck up, Mingyu. I’ve been single too long _not_ to enjoy this.”

 

Wonwoo kisses his cheek, completely unfazed aside from the slight flush in his cheeks. “So I was thinking,” Wonwoo murmurs quietly, nose scrunching ever so slightly as he smiles, “we should just skip the whole romancing stuff and go straight to the kissing and hand holding and gross dating and boyfriend part.”

 

He stares at the younger, grimacing distastefully. “You think I’m going to accept anything less than the whole fucking shebang after all the bullshit you put me through?”

 

Wonwoo grins conspiratorially, thinking for a moment.

 

“Don’t worry.” He leans in closer, lips brushing Soonyoung’s ear, “I’ll Won _-woo_ you.”

 

“You’re disgusting.”

 

He can hear his heart stutter as he pushes the younger away jokingly and he thinks Wonwoo can too, but neither of them mention it, instead choosing to lean back in for kisses laden with affection and comfort and security.

 

It’s not love, not yet anyway. But it’s strong and it’s passionate and it’s there and it’s _theirs_.

 

(Wonwoo’s abs are a bonus.)

 

((The hickeys Soonyoung sucks onto them are long overdue.))

 

(((The hoots and catcalls Wonwoo gets when he strips off his shirt during practice is gratification.)))

 

Soonyoung fucking loves band.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank uuuu trin for the idea, snots n 1/2chan for beta-ing, n everyone else who gassed me up while i wrote this <33333333333333 AND SPECIAL THANKS AGAIN TO DANI THE BEST EVER THE ULT HYPE WOMAN AIOEWJFAPOIJFAIEJAWOJAWOEJAOAJOA kbye


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